


Pretty Fly for a White Guy

by AndeliaMaddock



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Communism, Con Air, First Times, M/M, RaPS - Freeform, Sexy Times, booty shorts, suggestive dancing, terrible raps, virgins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:30:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1387684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndeliaMaddock/pseuds/AndeliaMaddock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John could see those eyes were practically red. “I mean, if you want to.” He could play it cool too.</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>John stood still for a moment, though he felt a buzzing excitement in his stomach. After a minute, he leaned closer. “Uh, Dave.”</p><p>Dave seemed stiff, frozen almost. </p><p>John tapped his shoulders. “It's cool if you can't.”</p><p>“No no, I totally can. This is my groove. It's fine.”</p><p>“Well, do you need help to figure something to rap on?”</p><p>“Nope.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Fly for a White Guy

John shifted in the seat. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. He hated clocks. Fingers tapped on the worn desk and he glanced around the room. Bored faces met his own with passive glances back. No one was paying attention. Class was almost over.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

John inhaled in a deep shuddering breath and leaned back in his seat. Be cool. Be chill. He slumped down in the attached seat a bit and tipped his desk slightly back. Shit. Still. Be cool. It was fine.

Something landed gracefully along the arm of his desk/chair combo. He reached down and lifted the paper plane. Small scrawled letters caught his eyes and he glanced back towards the back of the classroom, but no one seemed to notice him, or his new note. Carefully, he unfolded the note under the top of his desk.

“Bored. Wanna hang out after school.  
\--Dave”

Oh. That kid. John squinted and looked back one more time. The cool kid still wasn't responding. He sighed. If this was a prank, he'd laugh, but he'd really hate this stupid place even more.

John pulled out his blue pen and scrawled a reply, then folded it into a fortune teller. 

Tick Tock Tick Tock. The bell rang, and class was out. John followed after a slowly striding Dave. He tapped him on the shoulder and grinned up at the tall blonde. “Hey, so, you have to do the fortune thing first to know my reply.”

Dave arched one brow just high enough for the poker face to break and reveal blonde brows. “What are we in, 3rd grade?”

“Coming from the guy who sent me a paper plane and asked me to his house. If you really want the answer, you have to play the game. Come on, what's there to lose?” John was up in his space with a goofy grin plastered all over his face. “Pick a color, then a number, then a color.”

“Always thought it was number, color, number.”

“Nope. Unless maybe it's a regional thing, like maybe in Washington we pick colors and then--”

“Red, 5 (there better be a five dude), red. Got it, glasses?”

John snorted. “Fine. (And there is, it's right here. You're supposed to wait for me to do the thing, you're ruining this.)”

“Whatever dude.” The paper unfolded and folded before his shaded eyes and he smirked, just a bit, when he saw the answer. “You wrote yes everywhere, didn't you?”

“There's a single no.”

“Oh, you know how to play hard to get, glasses?”

John rolled his eyes and pushed his glasses back up his nose with his index finger. “Whatever. Where do you live anyway?”

“Just a few blocks away. Come on.”

John took it all in with wide eyes. “Dude. I like your place.”

“It's shitty, but whatever man. Come on, I haven't shown you my sweet room.” He stepped around the couch and towards his room. “But be quiet, ok? He could be--”

An adult in slick black shades stood before the two teens.

John stood tall. “Uh, hello... Mister Strider?”

The adult smirked and stepped close.

John caught sight of a scowl and shake of Dave's head. He tensed a little and stood even taller, though he didn't even come close to the height of this guy, or his lanky friend Dave. “Umm...” He thrust his hand out. “I'm John. A friend from school, well, I think. And I'm new, so Dave just invited me over and--”

The guy took his hand and shook it firmly. His drawl was soft, but pleasant, and the voice was richer and deeper than Dave's own. “Nice to meet you. I'm his bro, actually. Dirk Strider.”

He smiled brightly up at the other. “Well, uh. Nice meeting you, Dirk.” 

Dave caught him by the shoulder and dragged him along. “We're going to watch a movie or do some homework or something.” Dave didn't even look at his older bro, he just kept his stride steady and even and forward towards his room.

John waved at Dirk, then kept up a bit better with Dave's steps. When the door finally shut behind them, he laughed, albeit quietly. “What's up with you?”

“He's so weird.”

“He seems pretty cool.”

Dave probably rolled his eyes behind those shades. It seemed like he broke poker face a lot more often when he was alone with someone. John liked that.

He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned a it forward to peek at what Dave was doing. “Whoa, is that a turntable?”

“Yeah. I do some sick raps with it.”

“No way. Show me.” John pushed off of the bed and stood behind Dave. “Come on.”

Dave glanced back.

John could see those eyes were practically red. “I mean, if you want to.” He could play it cool too.

“Sure.”

John stood still for a moment, though he felt a buzzing excitement in his stomach. After a minute, he leaned closer. “Uh, Dave.”

Dave seemed stiff, frozen almost. 

John tapped his shoulders. “It's cool if you can't.”

“No no, I totally can. This is my groove. It's fine.”

“Well, do you need help to figure something to rap on?”

“Nope.”

John sat back down on the bed. His legs swung forward and back and he stared at the ceiling. “Ok.”

“I've got it. The perfect rap. John, are you ready for this?”

“Uh, yeah Dave. I've been ready for the entire five minutes I've been sitting here waiting.”

“Not good enough, John. I need you ready.”

“Dave.”

“John.”

“Fine! I'm really super ready for this rap, ok?”

“How long have you been ready?”

“I don't know, maybe ten minutes?”

“Not good enough, John. This beat is going to be hot, but you need to have been ready since at least the Cold War.”

“No. Dave, no.” He already knew. He covered his face with his hands and pulled into himself. “No, Dave, No.”

“1945 to 1991, that's when the war was ran, but no one ever won, son.  
On the end of a war to end them all  
It picked back up, without fail  
And who were those leaders who heard the call  
Well, not gonna lie, they were mostly old and male.”

John flopped back on the bed. “Dave! I'm warning you!” He pulled out his phone. Do it? Or not... That was the real question. He grinned and pressed record.

“Basically, as a quick summary the war was more a competition  
Guys feeling inadequate, emasculated, looking for some friction  
So Russia, or the U.S.S.R., had some bones to pick with WWII scars  
So they pulled the U.S. Aside said “gonna kick your ass” and they lied  
But the U.S., Fresh to the World War Pain, had other ideas, and so that's the start of all the rest.  
They pulled out their missiles, measured their arms, pumped up their rockets and tried to get to the stars

John angled the phone to catch how dave moved with his lyrics, with shoulders that slumped and then shifted back, and a head that bobbed to each lyrical smackdown. 

Dave would kill him, but John was ok with this.

“So Truman, Harry, was the first man to see it  
New Russia wasn't done, and he wanted it defeated  
'Cause Communism was king in that country  
And Truman was a president, yeah you feel me?  
Wanted freedom, and eagles singing, wanted people happy, American God bless Capitol D-democracy”

John grinned and scooted a bit closer on the bed, to get a better angle.

“Truman tries with all his might to dismantle this corrupt structure  
But Joseph Stalin, he wasn't stalling, and he set his country on a path of political murder  
Bodies piled, the world went mad  
But after World War II, no one wanted to fight and break down all sad  
So things got tense, and people turned blind eyes  
Meanwhile, Communism was hailed high in the sky”

John giggled. “Dude, keep going, this is perfect. Dave Strider, you are perfect at rapping.” 

Dave paused. He turned around, ever so slowly.

Headphones fell to his neck and Dave's shades shifted down his nose. “No. John.”

“Dave.”

“John.” Dave stood and turned fully towards John. “I will freaking--”

John pulled the phone back and held his thumb menacingly over the button. “If you come any closer, it goes directly to my youtube account.”

“John. I know you're new and all. And maybe you don't know. But I will kick you into an alternate apocalyptic universe where we're the new heroes of a damned land.”

“Come on, you're really good. And it's funny!”

“John.” He pushed his shades up with index finger and took a step forward. “I swear to god, if you don't--” His hands reached up ever so slightly. Eyes focused hard on the phone in John's hand. He licked at his lips.

John stepped back, and accidentally tripped the rug and fell back onto the plush bed.

The camera stopped recording. The video was sent directly to his account.

John blanched. “Uh, that was on accident.”

“This won't be.” Dave was on top of him now. He raised his fist back and held it in the air, poised to strike.

“Dave!” He held one hand up to push Dave off. “I can delete it, just give me a minute, come on!”

Dave scowled. Poker face officially gone, he pinned John by the shoulders. “Hurry up. You have a minute. And there better be no views.”

“I don't see why you're so upset. It was good. You should make videos yourself with raps like that. Seriously.”

“John.”

“Alright, fine. Here I g--oh.”

“Oh?”

“Uhhhh, I kinda forgot. I have like, several thousand subscribers.”

“How the hell does a kid like you have that many?”

“Hey! That's rude! And I do magic tricks and things, ok? Just... stupid baby stuff. But apparently everyone really likes it. See?” He grinned, though it was a little tense around the corners. John showed his phone to Dave.

Dave snorted. “I see like, five downvotes.”

“But there's over a hundred upvotes in like, one minute. That's is good, right? And look at those comments.” He scrolled down and kept the phone screen titled towards Dave. “So maybe you can stop grinding on me and we can just relax?”

“I'm not grinding.”

“Dave, I can feel you grinding. It's kinda... weirding me out.”

Dave ground harder. “You deserve it.”

“Ugh, get off of me!” He pushed hard at Dave's chest.

Dave smirked. “Maybe they do like it.”

“Get off.”

“Let's make another video and finish the rap.”

“What? You were mad like, three seconds ago.”

“I'm over it. You're going to take videos of all my best raps and get them out to the world.” Dave rolled off of him and strode over to his turntables.

“Yeah? What if I say no, it's only for pranks and magic, and this is neither if you like it.”

“Then I tell everyone at school all about your magic tricks. No way anyone in Texas, where you're a new kid, would give you shit for it.”

“That's a huge dick move.”

“Fitting for me.”

John shut his eyes and tried to block the image. And the sensation of Dave grinding. That needed to be blocked too, or they'd really have problems. “Ok, fine. So I record you doing more ridiculous raps and you're fine. What do I get out of it?”

“A friend.”

John couldn't stifle the smile. He went back to record more on his phone.

A few hours later, Dave walked him home. But John couldn't get the stupid catchy raps out of his head.

Dave smirked every time he hummed to the beat of one. “Must be good.”

“Whatever man. For amateur hour.”

“Yeah, I bet if you rapped for camera, it would be magical.”

“Please, I can totally rap.”

“Uh huh. Look, like, 50 thousand viewers. Seriously, I'm famous. But man look at those downvotes. They must love Communism.”

“Sure, sure, whatever man.”

Dave laughed. “Dave Strider is sexy and I want to hump his leg like a feral dog.”

“No way a comment says that!” John covered his mouth to keep the laughter contained. He glanced over at the screen on Dave's phone. “Oh my god. That girl's crazy.”

“This one's asking for my email. I bet she'll send tit shots or something.”

“Weird.”

“What. Tits?”

“No, just sending that to a stranger.”

“Well, you'd send tit shots to me I bet. Cause I'm not a stranger anymore.”

“Whatever, I don't have tits!”

“How do I know if I haven't seen them yet?”

“Dave!”

“Whatever. Tits or get the--”

John smacked his shoulder. “Dude. That's really gay.”

“Maybe a little gay.”

“Massively gay.”

“Ok, but it's not nearly as gay as amateur gay porn, so I think I'm still winning. Or am I losing? Now I don't know.”

“On a scale of one to gay, you're being really homo.”

“Homo is at least 4 points below gay though.”

“I need to see this scale now, because I think you're wrong.”

“That's ok to be gay, John.”

“I'm not gay!”

“Are you homo?”

“... Maybe a little.”

Dave glanced down at John and he smirked. “Yeah, me too.”

John grinned a bit wider. “But no homo, right?”

“Full homo. Embrace the homo.”

“How much homo?”

“100%, baby.”

John glanced down. “Could make another video tomorrow if you wanted.”

“John! I'm shocked. Shocked, that you would imply we have raunchy bareback sex in my bedroom while recording it. That's not only illegal, but it's amoral. We have to wear protection first.”

John shoved Dave. “Shut up! I didn't say that!”

“But I don't see you telling me you don't want to do that.”

John stepped back. “Ugh. I'll come over after school to shoot a rap video with you. And please, have something better than Communism and Democracy having sex and making babies because that ending was really weird.”

“Whatever man, I write vocal gold raps. Dropping beats harder than--”

“Whatever! This is my house. I'm going in now, Dave. Please, please don't greet me naked or something like that tomorrow.”

“Don't worry.”

“Good.”

“I'll let you get me naked at your own pace.”

John groaned and opened the door, then slammed it shut in the face of a smirking smug Dave Strider.

Maybe he had a thing for the guy. Maybe. It was just a little thing. Dave was probably just making fun anyway. He liked chicks and tits and... John wasn't a chick and... Texas wasn't exactly the best place to get with a guy if you possessed a penis... John slumped down against the door and sighed. His hair flittered about in front of his eyes and glasses and he pushed it roughly back into place. “Stupid.”

But maybe Dave wasn't just teasing. Maybe, if he worked this right...

 

The next day, John knocked at the door. He rolled his shoulders back, took in a deep breath, and smiled.

Dirk answered. The impassive features melded into a smirk. “John. Surprised to see you.”

“Oh, Dave didn't tell you that I was coming back today and--”

“Oh, he did. But normally he wants to meet at their place. I'm just surprised he's actually letting me see any of his friends.”

“Oh.” He rubbed at the sides of his arms, despite the Texas summer heat that lingered into the fall term, he felt a bit cold. “Maybe I could come in?”

“Sure thing. Dave's in his room.”

John nodded slowly, and stepped past Dirk. Quick footsteps brought him to the door and he knocked once, then peeked in.

Dave lay on his bed, flopped onto his back with his shirt peeling up a bit to reveal just enough skin.

If Dave was not trying to get him to look, then John had no idea just what was going on. Because he was looking. “Uh, we're still on for today, right?”

“Right.” Dave stretched and yawned. More shirt peeled up. “Shut the door.”

John did as bid and stepped forward with hesitant movements. “So what do you plan on rapping about today?”

“I don't.”

“But you said--”

“I may have told everyone on youtube that today you have a special video of you rapping. Due by 6pm.”

John scowled. “No. No. I'll just tell them that's not true and--”

“John. You'll disappoint all your biggest fans. Me being your biggest fan, of course. Come on, if you make a good rap, I'll even be the sexy background dancer dry air humping you in short booty shorts and a top that barely covers my nipples.”

He felt he might fall to his knees. The blush was so intense he might explode and become his very own star. John pushed his glasses back up to the top of his nose. “You don't even have an outfit like that.”

“Sure I do.”

“Prove it.”

“Rap for me, get my seal of approval, and I'll show you all night long, baby.”

John laughed, though it came out a bit more breathy than he wished. “Whatever. Show me the outfit first, not on you, and I'll write out a rap on something, ok?”

Dave rolled onto his stomach, then pushed off of the bed and jumped to the closet.

The display of subtle flexibility and athleticism made him more than a little pleased. John pulled his bookbag in front of his pants. “Dude, if you really have that outfit--”

Dave turned, a pair of sparkly red booty shorts and a matching sparkly top on a hanger. “What's that?”

“Why would you even have that.”

“Just wait until I tell you about my Bro.”

“Oh god. I don't want to know.”

“I'll probably tell you this weekend when you sleep over.”

“What sleep over?”

“The one I just told you to come to.”

John huffed and grabbed the hanger. “This is seriously...”

“Hot?”

“Messed up. And a little hot. Where do you even get things like this?”

“Online. Now hurry up, and write me a rap. No less than two minutes worth too.”

“No problemo.”

“And you can't just say the same words over and over. No 'yo yo yo yo' mixed up with words for punctuation and emphasis.”

John rolled his eyes. Damn. His ruse was foiled before he could even try it. “Ok, fine. Can I start now?” He dropped his bookbag, then knelt and pulled out a paper and a pen. “What brilliant topic do you suggest, Mr. Strider?”

“Dicks.”

“No!”

“Ponies.”

“No!”

“I'm running out of viable rap topics, John. Pick something.” Dave leaned down until their foreheads touched. “Or I could actually pick one and you'd be stuck with it.”

“No, no, I got it. I have the perfect one.”

“What is it?”

“No, you don't get to see it!” He pulled the notebook tight to his shirt and stood up hastily. “I need time to write it in quiet. Go make me a snack.”

Dave snorted. “Yes, Master, whatever you say.” He turned back towards the door and strut out.

John giggled and began to scrawl the most perfect rap in history down.

Minutes later, but not many, John smirked up at Dave, eyebrows waggling, arms crossed.

“Dude, I did not say I will sing backup. Especially backup that's so egregiously in a totally unironic way. I don't put my foot down and booty bumping and twerking against you, but I won't say these lines.”

“Well that's just too bad, because you're doing it. I already have the rap all rehearsed and everything.”

“It's been five minutes!”

“Yep. Lots of time to rehearse and make it perfect for 6.”

“Fine. Fine. Whatever, I can do this.”

“So get the outfit on.”

Dave stilled. “What, for practice?”

“We're going to record them all and watch them, and keep doing it until it's perfect.”

“You're an evil genius.”

“Thanks. I try.” He leaned forward and grinned, his teeth in front shining white and his brows high and mischievously tilted. “So are you going into the bathroom to change, or are you going to do it in here?”

Dave glanced to the door, then to the outfit. “Here's fine.”

John waggled his brows. 

Dave snorted and turned around. “Don't be a weirdo. I know it's hard for you.”

“Yeah, it is.” John stood and turned away from Dave, to go sit at the turntable and get ready for the rap. He swore he heard Dave snicker, but when he turned, Dave had a straight face on and was in the sparkly outfit, nonchalantly leaning against the wall.

The phone propped up by books on the bed, John and Dave set about creating the music video. 

John sat back in the chair and started the rap, while Dave air humped against him, and gyrated his hips to the prerecorded beat. 

“Cameron Poe, not the Poe you might know, talking about ravens and crazy crows  
This Poe, the one I want you to know, is a foe   
To Terrorism and those against the American way  
So sit right down and stay  
And I'll tell you the story of how he became that way”

Dave rolled his eyes behind his shades, but kept on bumping and grinding and nearly touching John with his body. 

“Cameron Poe, played by Nic Cage, isn't free as a bird until one fateful day  
Seven years after murdering a pepper  
Who was all up on his wife, acting all creeper  
And he gets on that plane, the “jailbird” as they say  
That's when things in life started getting in the way.”

Dave rubbed his belly and arched against John, this time sliding down so his head was back and nearly in John's lap. “Oh, yeah, Nic Cage, gotta save the day!”

John didn't break character. His own cool kid poker face was firm aind plastered over his normally mildly goofy expression.

“Up in the air, things start to get confusing  
There's an undercover agent Sims, investigating Francisco, as you know, responsible for drugs all over the country  
That man is a bad guy, and he's worth a lot of money  
All the prisoners weren't as good, as noble as our hero  
And one fakes a seizure, reduces the safety of the flight to zero  
Things get bad, and there's a big scuffle  
Poe sees the futility in fighting these guys  
Tries to convince Sims, Sims ignores it and dies”

Dave turned a bit and lifted so his face was right beside John's. “No one can stop him, he's Nic Cage.”

John could feel the breath on his cheeks, but he ignored it. Even if he was probably getting real red, he was fine.

“Well, about this time--”

Dave sat on his lap and pulled him into a kiss.

John sighed and pressed into those lips. After a few breathless moments, he gasped in air and leaned back in the chair. “Dave?”

“Man, I'm just doing background dancer stuff. Why'd you stop that killer rap?”

John panted and offered an unsteady grin. “Yeah, just uh. Background stuff.”

“What else would it be?” Dave angled himself down a bit so he was right in John's face, an inch away from kissing him again. “Unless you want it to be something else.”

“Dave, the camera's rolling.”

“It's a phone, and it won't post unless we make it post.” He gyrated those hips and ground a much more noticeable bulge against John's legs. “Right?” 

“Right.” John bit his bottom lip. “Well, maybe we could do something else for a little bit.”

“We've got until 6.”

“Yeah, so maybe. You know.”

“Nothing too serious. Just maybe makeouts or something.” Dave pulled off of John and grabbed his hand. “Come on. Let's get busy.”

“But not too busy!”

“Sure.” Dave smirked and pulled John along to the bed. “Just a little fun.”

“Right. And uh, no one has to know.”

“Right. Just a little bit of secret fun.”

“Right.” John lay back on the bed and stared up at Strider. “So uh.”

Dave straddled him. “So what?”

John's hands slowly moved to Dave's hips, then after a moment of lingering, they traveled up to his shirt. “Let's see those tits.”

Dave laughed, sexy Strider poker face cracked for a bit. “Dude. You want it? You got it.” The red sparkly top flew back and bumped into the pile of books, then slid off the bed.

John nodded approval. “Nice tits.”

Dave rubbed his nipples. “Thanks. I'm real proud.” Hands cupped the flesh there and pulled at it. “Wanna feel? I know they don't look it, but these babies are one hundred percent Strider and one hundred percent Natural.”

“No way, you had some work done, I can tell.”

“The proof is in the feel. Just... feel.” Dave grabbed at John's sweaty hands and brought the palms up to his chest.

It was only a minute before John pulled Dave down into a heavy kiss. He rolled over on top of Dave, and groped at him through his shorts. 

Dave peeled John's ghost shirt off and tossed it away. It landed on the books like the other, and then slid to the floor. “Aww man, John. Look how beautiful.”

“What?” John pushed his hair out of his face, and cursed the eternally unkempt way it lay on his head.

“You've got a nice set too.”

“Oh, ha, thanks.”

“Really. I mean it. Makes me wanna...” Dave leaned up on elbows and arched in to take in one nipple in his mouth. His tongue swirled around it, and played along the outer edges.

John whined and lay more firmly on top of Dave, until the other collapsed back. “Dave, they're really sensitive.”

“That just makes me want to do more.” Fingers sneaked up and tweaked them both. “Like that?”

John grunted and shut his eyes. He ground hard against Dave, so their bulges both worked against one another. “Kinda?”

“Kinda? Naw. You do, or you don't.”

“It's really... sensitive.” John reached up and stroked around Dave's. “See what I mean?”

“Maybe we should focus somewhere else for a bit.” Dave arched a single brow. “Maybe somewhere further down south?”

“Oh boy, like belly buttons?” John pulled his most innocent face, and his three teeth that vexed him with an eternal overbite dug into his bottom lips. “I have no idea what else you might be referring to.”

“I'll blow you raspberries so hard you won't know what you're doing.”

“Dave, no, please!” 

Dave already had him pinned to the bed. He needed to be a wrestler, with that kind of strength, and speed, and flexibility. 

John whined and then giggled when Dave started in. “Get off! Jesus, Dave! Come on! S-stop it!” He smacked at the blonde's bobbing head, and tried to force the other off.

Dave held fast, and kept on making the noises against John's exposed belly. 

John kicked and flailed, but it held little use.

The books fell off the bed.

Dave ceased administering raspberries and stared up at John. Both their gazes lingered a moment, then turned towards where the books had been, and where the phone had been propped up against the books.

John scrambled to get to his phone.

The recording had stopped. A little message congratulated him for uploading his latest video to Youtube.

John punched Dave in the shoulder, then quickly moved to delete the video.

The battery bar flashed, then the phone went dead. Cold in his hot little hand, John stared at Dave. He set the phone down, and flopped onto his belly on the bed. “I'm going to die.”

“It's not that bad.”

“I'm going to die, and everyone will see it and I just--”

Dave rolled onto his belly besides John. “It's really not that bad.”

“You freaked out about a cool rap! And no sexy times.”

“Everyone will think you're a stud.”

“I'm not a stud! I'm a loser and--”

Dave pulled him into a kiss, and pressed their bodies close. “Just play it cool.”

John pulled Dave in even tighter. “What, like you, cool kid? They're going to know I'm gay.”

“Maybe that'll make the girls less likely to want to hump you like rabid dogs?” 

John snickered. “Dude. Everyone at school is going to find out.”

“And then if they start anything, I'll kick their sweet southern asses. Relax.”

John grinned, just barely. “I'm still really mad. It's totally your fault. Another minute of recording and it would have just died. No video.”

“Yeah, I'm sure I'll find a way to make it up to you.” Dave's hand slid down John's belly, and trailed along the thick black treasure trail. “Somehow.”

“Oh, I'm sure you will.” John pushed that hand onto the button and helped it undo his jeans at the top. “But for now, this will do nicely.”

Dave snorted, but unzipped the jeans with deft fingers and a smirk on his features. “Whatever you say.”


End file.
